


The Quickie

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [74]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Older Woman/Younger Man, Quickies, Sex on Furniture, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Difficulties with a jammed zip lead to a new development in Bond's relationship with M.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quickie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDuchess/gifts), [My_Wife_Sharon_Raydor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Wife_Sharon_Raydor/gifts).



> Written for the OTP Prompts Tumblr. The prompt was: [_Imagine person A walking in on person B changing._](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/96592395958/imagine-person-a-walking-in-on-person-b-changing) You could say my Muse ran away with the idea...

Of all the duties Bond anticipated being given on achieving Double-0 status, acting as a bodyguard to M was not one of them. But her regular man, Mitchell, has gone down with food poisoning so Bill Tanner has asked him to stand in. Bond's a bit resentful because he'd had plans for this evening involving dinner and a lithe, gorgeous young woman, but as his status as 007 is still fairly new, he can hardly insist that Tanner find someone else to babysit M tonight.

He checks his watch and notes that they ought to be going soon if they're to arrive on time; not that he's in any rush to sit through what are bound to be a bunch of terminally boring speeches, but he knows M's a stickler for punctuality.

He shoves up out of his chair and wanders over to her office, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He stops dead on the other side of the door, arrested by the sight of M in matching black silk knickers and bra, and sheer silk stockings, also black.

She looks up after he's only been standing there a few moments and scowls. "Don't you knock, 007?" she asks, sounding surprisingly unfazed by the way he's staring at her. "I know your aunt raised you properly, but sometimes your manners leave a lot to be desired."

He splutters a bit before he manages to get out a "Sorry, ma'am" and she says sharply, "Well don't just stand there, Bond. Come and help me with this bloody dress."

"Perhaps I should get – " he begins, embarrassed to realise that his cock is responding to the sight of his boss in her underwear. 

"Come here, James!" There's a snap in her voice that he knows all too well, the one that means she'll brook no arguments, and it proves as much of a turn on as her state of undress. 

He moves across to where she's standing beside the big leather sofa, over the arm of which is draped a black velvet dress; he has to walk carefully because his cock is already half hard and he's terrified she'll notice and tear strips off him.

"The zip on this thing's jammed," she tells him, gesturing at the dress. "See if you can get it undone without breaking it, please."

"Ma'am." He sits down and drapes the dress across his lap, then looks closely at the zip; some of the teeth are not quite aligned, which is why the zip is jamming. He pulls his penknife out of his trouser pocket, and tries not to react when she sits on the sofa beside him and leans over to see what he's doing. Her breasts are almost brushing his arm, and he's glad of the dress lying across his lap since it hides his crotch: there's no way she'd miss his erection were he to move the dress.

"I'll have to get a new zip put in," she observes as he presses the tip of his penknife against the teeth of the zip and jiggles them straight again. He grabs the tag and pulls the zip open, then slides it closed again, before lifting his head to give M a smug look.

"Thank you, Bond," she says, and takes the dress from him, getting to her feet at the same time. He's so busy watching her as she puts the dress on, that he's forgotten how aroused he'd grown. 

Unfortunately for him, M is an eagle-eyed woman, and she looks down at his groin before raising her eyes to his. "Really, James," she says, "your response to bare flesh is entirely too predictable."

He blushes, annoyed with himself, and also with her for drawing attention to his predicament. He's also a bit embarrassed to be reacting this way to M, who's nothing like any of his usual sex partners, but she's got a good figure still. Her voluptuous breasts would be more than a handful, even given the size of his hands, he thinks, and although she's nearly a foot shorter than him, she's got amazingly long legs, and he tries not to think about having them wrapped about his body.

"James!" 

The snap is back in her voice and he jumps, startled out of his musings, to find her glaring at him. 

"Do something about the state you're in," she orders, and jerks her head at the door that leads to her private bathroom.

"Oh shit," he mutters, and gets to his feet, turning away quickly. 

007-007-007

Though she wouldn't dream of telling him so, M is extremely flattered by the fact that the great James Bond, well-known seducer of beautiful women, is hard for her: her pussy tingles at the thought, and her nipples are stiff, the silk of her bra brushing tantalisingly against the hard tips. She had been tempted to shove him down onto the sofa and have her wicked way with him, instead of sending him into her bathroom to deal with his arousal as best he sees fit. He's well endowed, and the thought of having his thick prick sliding into her slick pussy is a distracting one, but she's not so distracted that she isn't keeping an eye on the time, and she purses her lips, one foot tapping, as she waits for him to re-emerge from her bathroom. She's tempted to storm in there and drag him out, but she fears that if she finds him mid-wank, she'll throw caution to the winds, and fuck him right here and now.

She's just contemplating taking such a risk when the bathroom door opens, and he emerges, his cock quiescent, and his cheeks tinged with a hint of a blush as he registers she's been waiting impatiently for him.

"Satisfied?" she asks.

He mutters something which sounds like "Not as much as I'd like," but then says, more loudly, "Yes ma'am." 

She decides to ignore the mutter since they're running late, and gestures at the door. "Get a move on, then, Bond." She turns away from him, and tells herself that she'll pull out her vibrator tonight. She and Reg haven't been sexually active for about six months – he's got health issues that have left him with no desire for sex, and until now she'd been happily making do with the vibrator she'd bought. Now she's not sure she'll be as happy with it, not when she knows that Bond finds her body arousing.

She banishes that thought as she walks through the door of her office, and resumes her strictest professional persona.

007-007-007

It takes Bond a little time to work through the embarrassment factor of being sent for a wank by his boss, and he's deeply grateful that she makes no further reference to the matter beyond asking if he's satisfied. He's not, at least not entirely – yes, he has come, and it didn't take him long, thankfully, but it's not enough. Despite his best efforts, he can't seem to stop picturing M beneath him, naked except for those stockings, her body bucking and writhing in pleasure as he fucks her hard and fast. He wonders if she's noisy during sex: would she scream his name as he sent her over the edge, or merely whimper quietly into his shoulder. He imagines taking her from behind, bent over her desk, or better yet, the arm of the leather sofa in her office, while his hands clasp her breasts.

Abruptly he realises it's a bad idea to be thinking about such things when he's sitting next to the woman in question, especially when the scent of her perfume is in his nostrils, and particularly not when those thoughts are making him hard all over again.

"Honestly, 007, don't you have any self control?" M asks in a fierce undertone.

He gives her a startled look, then realises why she's berating him when he sees the direction in which she's looking: he's already half hard again, and the tent in his trousers is unmissable. He gives her a contrite look, and puts a hand on his cock, willing it to settle down again, but it's not that simple: her scolding is turning him on even more.

007-007-007

The car pulls up outside the FCO building and M climbs out when the driver opens the passenger door, then she turns to Bond and hands him the large wrap she'd been carrying. "Hold this so it's not obvious to everyone that you can't keep yourself under control," she tells him, her voice low and husky.

"Ma'am." He takes the wrap from her, drapes it over his left arm, then positions his arm in front of himself. Of course, walking won't be easy for him, she knows, but there's nothing she can do about that, and she wonders why he suddenly got aroused again when they were merely sitting in the car.

She takes refuge in being angry at him because then she doesn't have to admit how aroused she's grown, knowing that he's hard for her. She can feel a damp patch on the crotch of her knickers, which is a surprise given that, at her age, she doesn’t usually get that wet without some help. Her nipples are stiff and her breasts feel heavy, and her pussy throbs with want. Abruptly she realises she's being unfair to Bond, castigating him for his body's reaction just because it's obvious, when she's having much the same reaction but in a far less obvious manner.

She turns towards him, and says in a much softer tone, "I need to go and powder my nose."

He nods, and follows her as she sets off along a side corridor, away from the noise of the guests. She's notices him looking around as they walk, and blesses the fact that he's unfamiliar with the layout of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office's building. She stops outside a door at the far end of the corridor, opens it, then hustles him inside.

"What – ?" he begins, but she reaches up to grab the back of his neck and kisses him forcefully.

He moans, and she hears the slither of her wrap falling to the floor, then she backs him away from the door, only stopping when he bumps up against the couch behind him.

"Where are we?" he asks breathlessly, sitting down with a bump.

"Staff common room," she answers. She moves away from him long enough to lock the door from the inside, then moves back to join him.

"M, I'm sorry – "

She cuts him off. "Forget sorry, James," she says, fumbling his trousers open. "Just fuck me."

He groans when she eases his prick free of the confines of his trousers. "Are you sure about this?"

"James, I've got your bloody cock in my hand, of course I'm sure," she snaps, and then tilts her head to consider him carefully when his cock twitches in response to her words. "Oh, so that's the way it is, is it?" 

He's blushing again, which she finds rather adorable, though she doesn't plan on telling him so just yet. "Sorry, ma'am," he mutters.

She shakes her head. "Just fuck me, James, for god's sake, before someone comes looking for us." She squeezes the base of his cock, then adds, "And this once, at least, be quick about it."

He nods, then pushes her down onto her back, before dragging off his trousers. He kneels on the sofa and pulls aside the crotch of her knickers.

"Wait," she gasps. "Have you got any lube?" 

He chuckles, then tugs a familiar blue tube from his jacket pocket. He quickly slathers some onto his swollen flesh, then he tosses it aside and shifts his body over hers. He aligns the head of his cock with the puffy pink lips of her pussy, then slides home in one long, slow glide.

M groans as he fills her, stretching her pussy pleasantly, then clutches at his shoulders as he immediately begins to thrust hard and fast. If she'd ever pictured this moment, which it hadn't occurred to her to do, she'd never imagined they'd be hiding out in a staff room at the FCO in order to have a quickie, but now they're here, she's not complaining, not when she's already hovering on the verge of orgasm. James' thumb finds her clit and he begins massaging it, and that's the final straw: her pussy muscles tighten around his thrusting cock as an intense orgasm rushes through her, and she bites the sleeve of his jacket to silence her cries of pleasure. Moments later, James' thrusts still and she feels him pumping her full of his seed, which provokes a second, less intense orgasm.

"Fuck!" He pushes himself upright, his softening cock slick with lube and their juices slips out of her, and she bites back a moan: she wants to lean in and suck him back to hardness for another round, but there's no time. He tugs a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall and swiftly wipes his cock clean, then gestures at her as she sits up.

"Do you want to – " He leaves the sentence unfinished, and she notes the flush of colour on his cheeks.

She shakes her head. "No time. We need to get upstairs before someone starts wondering where I am." She doesn't tell him that the thought of going upstairs with her pussy full of his come is a huge turn-on, and that she's going to relish being in that state while talking to the old fogeys who all so heartily disapprove of her. They, of course, would scandalised if they knew she'd allowed one of her agents to fuck her, particularly in their domain, but the idea tickles her immensely.

She gives James a quick, hard kiss on the mouth, then says, "We'll finish this later." He groans softly, then nods, and goes to unlock the door, and she resolves that they won't be staying long this evening.


End file.
